


Sexy as Charged

by inkblott



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Derek, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward Stiles, Awkwardness, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, I FINALLY FINISHED HECK YEAH, IT'S JUST A LOT OF AWKWARDNESS, KATE'S STILL A BITCH, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkblott/pseuds/inkblott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck his life. Seriously. Could some lightning bolt just shoot out of the sky and free him from this embarrassment? He wouldn’t even mind turning into a human KFC drumstick, as long as he could get the hell outta Dodge.</p><p>Or the one where Stiles has no filter and only wanted some coffee, Derek is a sweetheart with <i>fine</i> nether regions, and Laura just wants her brother and her best customer to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexy as Charged

Stiles blinked, reaching a hand up to his face to rub the sleep out of his eyes. As soon as he could see clearly, he looked at his clock, and  _shit_.

It was 8:39, and his morning class started in 6 minutes. 

Stiles leaped out of bed with a physical prowess that he didn't know he possessed. He didn’t dwell on it for long. A college kid with a plan was a college kid that nobody wanted to mess with.

He multitasked, shoving a brush into his mouth while washing his face. He squinted as some of the water got in his eyes, making them feel dry and disgusting, but he pushed it aside. _Pain is beauty, girlfriend. Except instead of beauty, it’s a passing grade in my Creative Writing class_.

Thank the Lord that nobody else could hear what was on his mind. (Although if he was being completely honest, he was definitely one of those people that randomly wondered if anyone in the room could read minds, and then would promptly start thinking about circumcision or something.)

He threw on a black T-shirt with a semi-wrinkly red and black plaid shirt. He rapidly glanced around, grabbing his wallet and phone and shoving them into his back pocket. Heaving his backpack onto his shoulder, he sprinted out of the room, barely closing the door behind him.

No fingers were jammed in the making of this movie.

Halfway down the stairs – the elevator was a little bitch, and Stiles swore that it was possessed by some pissy demon that had a grudge against him – he realized that it was a Saturday. No classes on Saturday.

He froze in a comical position, with one arm and the opposite leg extended, as though somebody had paused the protagonist during the epic chase scene, while the cackling villain sprinted away with the princess.

Stiles let out a long groan, dragging it out as he slumped against the wall. He plopped down onto one of the steps, and put his face in his hands. _His life._

As he sat wallowing in self-misery, his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He yanked at his hair one more time before pulling the offending device out of his pocket.

“What.”

“Hey Stiles! Um, are you okay?” How somebody could be such a ball of fucking sunshine, at _8:30 in the morning_ , Stiles would never know.

“’M fine.”

“Ri-ight. So where are you? I’m in our room, but nobody’s here.” Scott had spent the night at his girlfriend’s house. Allison lived so close to the college that she didn’t need a dorm. Stiles refused to be jealous over that. His dorm was awesome. It smelled like old people and sweaty feet, but awesome nonetheless.

“Oh, you know. Out and about, as the young people say nowadays.”

“But… young people don’t. Say. That. We’re young people. Do we say that?” Scott’s voice was adorably confused, and Stiles resisted the urge to coo at him. Because Stiles was a manly man.

“Ah, whatever buddy. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, okay! Well, I’m gonna go back to Allison’s… What are you going to do?”  Stiles could just imagine Scott cocking his head, confusion and concern for Stiles painted on his face.

Stiles dragged his hand up his face, resting it against his forehead. What _was_ he going to do today?

“I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me, everything’s good in the Stilinski Hood!” Stiles mentally cringed. He really was a loser, but Scott didn’t seem to care. He just laughed, and asked once more if Stiles was sure.

“Mhmm, now remember, my young grasshopper, use protection.”

Scott sputtered on the other line, and Stiles held in a laugh as he quickly pressed the end button on his phone.

 _Scott_ , man. Never failed to brighten up his day.

Darn. As he stared at his phone, the thought of flip phones crossed his mind again. If he had one of those, he could flip his phone closed, and strut away in his rainbow striped pants, like he was in an _Austin Powers_ movie or something.

 _Buy rainbow striped pants,_ Stiles mentally added to his checklist of things he needed to do before he died. Or before he finally succumbed to the mental instability that was college.

Don’t get him wrong. College was about seventy three times better than high school – no more Jackson, no more guys refusing to acknowledge their attraction to the sexiness that was Stiles Stilinski, no more raging crush on a Ginger Queen that could probably rocket science his head off – if he was doing his calculations correctly, but sometimes the stress of the classes and the schoolwork and the _no fucking sleep_ that he was getting really put a damper on things.

Thank all that was holy and rockin’ that coffee existed.

“Right! Coffee.” He quickly glanced around, and yep, there was a bystander, looking at him like he was insane. Talking to himself wasn’t that crazy, was it?

Might as well put on a show.

He forced a manic smile onto his face, and began rubbing his hands excitedly together, hunching his back a little to add to the effect. “Yes,” he wheezed out in a classic Scrooge-esque, asthmatic grandfather type voice. “Coffee. The final piece to complete my puzzle of WORLD DOMINATION!” He let out a cackle, before beginning to mutter nonsense, making sure the words “death”, “Nutella”, “free will”, “cauliflower”, and “castration” were a bit louder than the rest. The look of horror on the guy’s face was so fucking comical, Stiles would only be a _little_ regretful when he eventually spread word of the nutcase that lived on the seventh floor.

And hey, it wasn’t his fault that the dude had some crazy combination thought up in his mind of how Stiles could take over the world with freaking Nutella and castration.

Huh. Maybe if he-

NO. Let’s not go there.

He continued to rub his hands before realizing that _ugh_ that guy was still just standing there. So, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Stiles turned to him, squinting one eye, and extending one shaking hand towards him, pointer finger extended. “Hey, you. _Boy_.” The guy looked around, alarmed, before pointing at himself, mouthing “Me?” looking slightly horrified. Almost like he was going to puke, even.

Brilliant.

Stiles nodded, while keeping one eye wide open and the other squinty and blinking. “Do ya,” he cut himself off by letting loose a series of hacking coughs, making his whole body shake with each one. He shook his head, and cleared his throat. “Sorry, sonny.” It was funny, because Stiles was 84% sure that the other dude was older than him, but there weren’t any complaints, so he rolled with it. “Do ya wanna help me with something? Something,” he grinned widely, “important.”

The other guy stuttered, but Stiles shushed him. Calling him “guy” and “dude” was getting obnoxious. Which was weird, because it was in his own mind, but whatever.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“T-T-Tom.” Wow. Could he have a more generic name?

But he wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover. For all Stiles knew, Tom could be a freaking secret agent, double-oh seven style.

“Well, Tom, son,” he paused to look seriously the guy – _Tom_ – with his hands clasped out in front of him. “Do you want to help me fulfill my quest in conquering the world?” He flailed his arms around for good measure.

Stiles wished that he could document the look of terror on Tom’s face. It would be proof, solid evidence, that _hell yeah_ Stiles could be a fucking actor if he wanted to be. Damn straight.

“Well, I-I would, but I have to g-go… Study! Yes, I have to study for a, uh, test I have tom-tomorrow, and I can’t. So.” Tom awkwardly shuffled his feet, and stared at the ground.

Well, at least he didn’t say yes. Stiles would have no idea what to do then.

He rearranged his face into a saddened expression, maybe even throwing a pout in there. “Oh. Well, I’m sure I can find an heir to my legacy. Thank you, anyway, Tom.”

Hell yes, the Academy would be thanking _him_ if they had any of this genius.

He quickly jumped off of the stairs, before facing Tom, brushing the dust off of his pants. “You’re a good boy, Tom. I’ll be sure to,” he paused. Dramatic effect and all. “Keep in contact.”

He turned on his heel and skipped down the stairs. He heard Tom’s sigh of relief, but he wasn’t really focusing on that.

It was Coffee Time.

* * *

 

Stiles pushed his earbuds into his ears, absentmindedly, while trying to find a good song to listen to. Ugh, he was really starting to regret that music splurge he’d allowed himself the previous month. But hey, he had a shit ton of stuff to listen to, so he wasn’t going to let that rain on his parade.

Dust Bowl Dance by Mumford and Sons. Not too shabby.

He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, and was struck with the fact that it _was_ a really nice day, sucky morning included. The sun was bright, but not obnoxious, and there weren’t any grey clouds in the sky. Most of them were fluffy or wispy, the kinds that made you want to reach into the sky and rub them all over yourself.

In a non-lewd way, of course. Okay, maybe in a slightly lewd way, but you know what, Stiles was a college student, a sometimes _horny_ college student, so he could make anything and everything lewd. Except for babies, animals, and old Scrooge-like grandfathers that were hell bent on taking over the world.

 _Well_ , he supposed, _if you were one nasty motherfucker you could probably_ –

“Fuuuuudge.” He was vaguely aware of the small children that were running near him – there was an ice cream truck a little ways off, he could see it through the corner of his eye – so the spontaneous censoring was necessary. Even though “fudge” wasn’t a bad word, the old pansy moms gave him dirty looks.

Haggy bats. They just had to take the fun out of everything. Fudging fudge them.

Ah, shit. That reminded him of why he “fudge”d in the first place. He had stubbed his toe on the damn bench. He groaned, and hobbled himself around so that he could sink into it.

Stiles was a smooth motherfucker. _Smooth like frickin’ crunchy peanut butter_ , the annoying subconscious-y voice whispered to him.

Well. When his innermost thoughts told him that he was an absolute loser, who was he to argue.

He flung his arms out onto the backing of the wooden bench, and closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle sunshine rays on his skin. If he wanted to get some more Vitamin D, then who was anyone to judge?

Nobody. Except the prissy voice in his head that screamed out with a, _Me, I judge you all the damn time_. What an asshole.

He swears to Gosh, that voice isn’t even his. He isn’t _that_ pompous is he? I mean, for fucks sake –

He opened his eyes to the sound of a bird chirping, and _holy leather Batman_ that was a fine specimen of man.

Stiles was feeling severely inadequate just looking at the guy. With his spiky black hair, dark wash jeans, leather jacket, stubble, and obvious muscle – like dang, he could probably bench press Stiles twice over – he was practically in the Twilight Zone while Stiles was stuck with his feet glued to Mother Earth.

Oh, look at that. There was a freaking shiny star on his jacket. Stiles didn’t know they even used those anymore, but it showed that he was a _flipping cop_. Oh crap, that meant his dad probably knew this dude.

The Sheriff probably got to see this hotness every day.

Well, that didn’t stop Stiles from getting in a good ogle while he still could. He’d never be able to walk into the station without getting an awkward boner, but heck yeah, he was gonna make the most of this opportunity.

Damn, that booty could work those jeans. _Damn, I would tap that ass so bad_.

He physically cringed, and shut his eyes. Even his thoughts were disgustingly awkward.

He was perfectly content to just sit there and let himself sink into the bench. Wood was the same as trees, trees were nature, he was nature. They were practically the same thing, so becoming  “one with the tree” didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

As he sat wallowing in self-pity, he was suddenly aware of something blocking the sunlight. Something big.

He shivered in anticipation, and slight terror, before cracking open one eye.

It was the cop.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck it’s probably illegal to sit on this bench, or maybe he saw me kick it, and now he’s gonna arrest me for vandalism, oh shit, why didn’t I just go straight to the coffee shop, goddamn it, Stiles, what’s wrong with-_

He saw that the guy’s lips were moving, and Stiles’ eyes briefly glanced at the name engraved into the shiny badge.

Derek.

Stiles yanked his earbuds out, and stared up at the cop. At _Derek_.

“That was quite a compliment.” Dammit, even his voice was super sex- Hold up. What did he say?

Stiles froze, eyes wide. Fuck his life. Seriously. Could some lightning bolt just shoot out of the sky and free him from this embarrassment? He wouldn’t even mind turning into a human KFC drumstick, as long as he could get the hell outta Dodge.

He had spoken out loud. Why didn’t he have a freaking brain to mouth filter? It would have saved him a lot of trouble during high school, mostly with blurting out stupid shit to his stuffy chem teacher or to hot people that were totally out of his league.

Like in this situation.

“U-uh,” Stiles eloquently said.

Derek was grinning at him, hands thrust into his back pockets. _Fucking bunny teeth._ Stiles could feel something coiling in his stomach. He was already starting to crush on this guy, and he hadn’t even said two words to him.

What the fuck, Stiles. Literally, what the fucking fuck.

“W-well. I’m very sorry for uh, the awkward ass appreciation.” Another mom walked by, dragging her little girl away and tsking at him, and Stiles resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her. Why couldn’t she just keep her nose in her own business? Stiles was having a crisis, he should be allowed to say some bad words.

Derek laughed. “It’s alright.”

To say that Stiles was a little in awe of this guy would be an understatement. The stubble and leather jacket made it seem like he would be grumpy and growly – Stiles didn’t exactly mind the latter, because it implied that Derek was an animal in bed, which was doing all sorts of things to Stiles’ breathing – but he was like a freaking puppy.

Derek’s laugh make Stiles’ stomach flip flop.

_Goddammit._

Stiles quickly jumped to his feet, and ran his fingers through his hair again, a telltale sign that he was nervous. And maybe about to do something stupid. But hell no, Stiles had embarrassed himself enough around attractive people.

“Right, I’m, uh, sorry. Again. I mean, I’m not normally this awkward. Actually, I guess I am, especially around attractive people like yourself, obviously,” Stiles gestured, or more like flailed, towards Derek before plowing on. “But hey, you can just forget that this ever happened, because what are the chances that we’re ever gonna talk again, right? So, yeah. I’m gonna go, and save the last shred of my pride that I haven’t torn up into little pieces. Have a nice day!”

And with that, Stiles sprinted away.

He actually hobbled away. His foot still hurt like a motherfucker

If Stiles had turned around, to chance one more glance at Derek, he would have seen the confused, and somewhat disappointed look on the older man’s face.

But he didn’t look back.

* * *

 

Derek was tired. He was really freaking tired.

He had just visited the hospital to see his uncle, and that, of itself, was draining. Peter had been grouchy, snarking and griping about how “fickle Derek” was helping the guys that couldn’t even find the person that had murdered their entire family.

It’s not like they didn’t know who it was.

Kate.

But nobody wanted to break Derek’s heart any more that it was already broken, so they didn’t really talk about her.

Except Peter.

He had let loose that day, screaming about how “Derek brought that bitch into our house,” and how “Derek had told her all of our secrets,” and that “if Derek hadn’t been such a fucking disappointment, they’d still be alive.”

Needless to say, Derek had left rather quickly, after leaving a lemon pound cake from his sister, and whispering a quick, “I’m sorry.”

Derek was ready to push that to the back of his mind, when he saw Stiles Stilinski.

Derek had been walking on the sidewalk, thinking about _God knows what_ when he glanced upwards, and Stiles caught his eye.

Damn.

Sheriff Stilinski had about 20 pictures of the kid framed around his office, so everybody on the force knew who he was. The pictures all had an obviously younger John, with Stiles as a six or seven year old, and sometimes there was a beautiful woman in the frame as well.

Claudia Stilinski.

Nobody talked about her, but everybody could see how much love the man held for his son and late wife. One day, when Derek had gone in to get the Sherriff to sign some papers, he’d seen John staring at one of the pictures, featuring a laughing Claudia holding a baby Stiles, who was giggling as he held a children’s book up to the camera. She was obviously struggling to hold the squirming child, but the exuberance clearly painted on her face showed that she was having a wonderful time.

It was at least 5 minutes before Derek could bring himself to pull the man out of his trance.

Seeing the now much older boy’s face, he could definitely see the resemblance to the toddler from the pictures. He was thin, with long legs and long fingers that tapped out a rhythm on the bench that he was sprawled on. His lips were mouthing along so some song that Derek obviously couldn’t hear, and he bobbed his head, chestnut hair reflecting his hair.

Derek would be lying if he said Stiles was unattractive. He was pretty damn attractive.

Derek shook those thoughts out of his head. _Dammit, Derek, he’s John’s_ son _. You’ve never even talked to the kid! And you don’t even know hold old he is, ah, shit._

He was so screwed.

He forced his eyes away from Stiles, and turned to the right. He had something he needed to do. He was going to walk away from the boy, without turning back, and go, uh, figure out. What that was.

Derek sped up, trying to walk past Stiles without being conspicuous before–

“Damn, I would tap that ass so bad.”

It was quiet, as though Stiles hadn’t meant to say it, but Derek definitely heard it. He stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Stiles. Derek didn’t even wanna talk that was probably spreading across his face.

Stiles was cringing, probably because of what he had said. His scrunched up nose was approximately ten times cuter than he wished it was. It would make not-liking him a _lot_ easier.

He quickly walked back to stand in front of Stiles, and suddenly realized, shit, he was actually doing this. He shoved his hands into his back pockets, suddenly becoming bashful. He fought to keep the blush from his face, but could practically feel the redness staining the back of his neck. 

Derek watched as Stiles reluctantly opened one eye, before both of them shot open in shock.

“That was quite a compliment.”

Stiles makes no effort to show that he heard, still gaping at Derek as though he were a long lost Van Gogh or something of similar importance.

Derek starts to repeat himself, but then notices the white earbuds in Stiles’ ears. The boy starts, as though he just realized they were in his ears, and quickly tugged them out.

“That was quite a compliment.” Derek was starting to sound like a broken record, but thankfully, the redness that was spreading across Stiles’ face and onto his ears told him that he wouldn’t have to say it again.

“U-uh.” Derek could already feel his lips turning up into a grin. He was practically beaming at Stiles.

“W-well. I’m very sorry for uh, the awkward ass appreciation.” Stiles stared at something behind him right after he spoke, but Derek couldn’t focus on what it was. Stiles has said that he appreciated his _ass._ Derek’s _ass._

Derek was so flattered that it was almost embarrassing.  He felt a laugh bubbling up in his chest, and let it out, throwing his head back. “It’s alright.”

He felt Stiles’ gaze on him for a few moments. The boy jumped off of the bench, slightly wincing as he did so. Derek felt a pang of concern in his chest. Was Stiles hurt? Derek hoped that he wasn’t, because that would be really –

Stiles’ voice cut through his thoughts. His fingers were running through his hair, making it stand up in a way that was much more appealing than it should have been.

 “Right, I’m, uh, sorry. Again. I mean, I’m not normally this awkward. Actually, I guess I am, especially around attractive people like yourself, obviously,” Stiles wildly waved his hand towards Derek. His voice was stutter-y. “But hey, you can just forget that this ever happened, because what are the chances that we’re ever gonna talk again, right? So, yeah. I’m gonna go, and save the last shred of my pride that I haven’t torn up into little pieces. Have a nice day!”

His voice got unrealistically cheery at the end, and he quickly turned on his heel and hobbled away.

Derek felt his smile slip away, and his bottom lip gutted out slightly as his eyebrows creased in confusion.

Was it something he said?

* * *

 

Stiles pushed open the door to the coffee shop, shoulders slumped and head downcast. His eyes quickly flitted up and down, making sure to avoid bumping into someone, and he weaved his way through the people that loitered around the entrance. He quickly walked up to the counter and slid onto one of the stools.

He slumped onto the cold marble, resting his head on his arms. A loud groan escaped his lips, slightly muffled by his sweatshirt.

“What’s crack-a-lackin’, sweet thang?” An amused, exaggeratedly Southern – was that even Southern, what the heck was that. Whatever it was, it was _bad_ – voice reached his ears, and he snuffled into his arm.

“Need a coffee.”

Laura, who was probably staring at him with her hands on her hips, was silent for a few moments, before sighing. Stiles heard the click-clack of her heels. “I’ll get your usual.” Laura’s voice sounded slightly farther away, so he knew that she had gone into the back room to get the supplies for his coffee.

“Love you.” Stiles couldn’t even bring himself to look up at her, grateful expression plastered to his face. It was the thought that counted, anyway.

“Yeah, yeah hotshot, I know.”

A few minutes past, filled with light conversations of the customers and coffee machines, before Laura placed the steaming cup of coffee next to him, patting him lightly on the head. “Order up, Stilinski.”

Stiles dragged his head off his makeshift pillow, feeling as though it weighed 50 pounds. His long fingers grasped the cup like it was a lifeline. He inhaled the fumes, caramel and vanilla and fucking _magic_ – because Laura was definitely some sort of magic if she could make something so amazing – closing his eyes, before taking a careful swing. It burned his tongue a little bit as it went down, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He blinked his eyes open, feeling as though the liquid was spreading energy through his weary muscles. Laura stared back at him, a deliberating expression on her face.

“Thank you, Lu, you’re a goddess.”

She leaned over and tapped him on the nose. “And don’t you forget it!”

Stiles smiled at her, before taking another sip of his coffee. He couldn’t even remember why he had been feeling so bad earlier. With this amazing coffee by his side, he felt like he could take on the entire freaking –

“So, why were you so down in the dumps a few minutes ago?”

Oh. That’s why.

Stiles groaned before slumping over again, fingers still clutching at his cup. He felt his butt stick out, as he was basically folded in half over the counter, and wondered how he looked to the other people in the shop. Oh well, who cared. He was having a crummy day, he had the right to not follow the rules of proper etiquette for a day.

“Ugh. I was sitting on a bench, and just–” He downed the rest of his coffee, wincing as the still-hot liquid ran down his throat. “It was not good.”

“Well, Stiles,” Laura said, glancing at the clock on the far wall, “I’m on break for another 15 minutes. Besides, I don’t think they’d mind if I took a little longer with it.” She shrugged. “The morning rush is just about over. I’ve got time.”

Stiles moaned again, before sliding of the bench, and sluggishly walked to one of the unoccupied booths. Laura followed him, sliding her folded apron under his head as it came down. Dammit, Stiles was hoping he’d bang his head so hard on the table that he’d get knocked out, for, oh, maybe, the next few months.

“So. Essentially. Okay, how about I just give you the highlights? I mean, I could give you the entire long, drawn out story, but then again, that would just be boring, right? And what the heck, that wouldn’t be good, because that would just waste your break, you know? But then again, I could miss something, because–”

“Stiles.” He looked up to see Laura staring at him, one eyebrow raised. Damn those eyebrows. Perhaps if he glared at them long enough, they would magically be unable to make him feel like an idiot with one graceful quirk. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. “You’re wasting my break by blathering on like this. Go on then.” She leaned back, and crossed her arms, not relaxing her eyebrow. “Hit me.”

Ugh. When Laura wanted something, she got it. Stiles was sure that she was spoiled as a kid, but couldn’t bring himself to think badly of her. Who else would make him coffee in his time(s) of need?

“Essentially, I was sitting at a bench, and then this guy, this holy smoking hot guy just walked by! Like, Laura. You have no idea how hot this guy was.  I bet I could cook an egg on his bare skin, and _shit_ , I would fuckin’ enjoy eating that egg when it was done, damn.” He racked his fingers through his hair, grimacing when the knots tugged at his scalp. Laura stared at him, a vaguely interested expression in her eyes. She’d been going steady with some guy, Jake or Jack something, so hot guys didn’t interest her anymore. Well, hot guys that _weren’t_ Jack. Or Jake. Whatever.

“So yeah, he walked by, and me being the awkward fucking weirdo that I am,” Stiles paused to swallow and shove his face into his hands, “Ithoubouttapatassuteardmeauseidentidittloud.”

“What the hell, Stiles, speak clearly.”

Stiles sighed before speaking, slowly and clearly. “I thought about tapping that ass, but he heard me because I accidentally said it out loud.”

Laura looked at him, eyes wide.

He held his hands out in defense. “I have no filter, okay?”

Laura stared at him for a few more moments, before throwing her head back and laughing, clear like bells. It was familiar to Stiles somehow, but he just couldn’t place–

“Wow, you’re a fucking,” pause for laughter, “piece of work, Stilinski, I’ll give you that.” Laura was actually wiping tears from her eyes. It wasn’t that funny.

“Oh, yes it was, Stiles. That was the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

Dammit. No filter.

“So,” Laura leaned forward onto her hands, a mockingly adoring expression on her face. “What was this guy’s name? I’m sure it would be something sexy, like… Vince?”

Stiles made a face. No, definitely not. Derek was too. Something. For Vince. Stiles didn’t even know Derek that well, but he found that the only thing that fit the cop was _Derek_.

“No.” Stiles was still a little mad at Laura for laughing at him.

“Aw, c’mon, hotshot, don’t be like that. Now I’m actually interested, let’s go. Hit me.”

Stiles groaned before slumping over. “’erek.”

“What was that, pretty boy? I can’t hear you over the sound of your manpain.”

“Shut up, Laura, I don’t have manpain.” Laura stared at him some more, magical eyebrows fulfilling their intended purpose: making him want to spill his guts, and feel like an idiot for not doing so beforehand.

“His name is Derek.”

Her eyes widened, something clicking in them, before she squinted at him. “Derek?”

“Yes, Derek.”

Laura hummed, before looking at him again. “What else did you notice about this guy?”

“Erm. Other than his insane hotness, he’s a cop. Ugh, that means he knows my dad! Oh god, if anything did happen, can you imagine the awkward dinner conversations we’d have? They’d be discussing homicide while we ate Mac & Cheese,” Stiles moaned, before resuming his previous position, slumped over the table, cheek pressing against the cold wood.

“Where’d you say you met this guy?”

“I didn’t. But the park, I was on a bench.” His foot began throbbing slightly as he remembered why he’d been there anyway. “Fuck, I stubbed my toe.”

“You need ice?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” If he said yes, Laura would relentlessly tease him for the next who-knows-how-long. Probably more accusations of manpain.

Stiles glanced up at Laura, and saw a conspiratory smile spread across her face. Oh, shit. “No, no, no.” Laura’s grin grew wider. “Nope, don’t even. Why are you making that face?”

Laura hopped off the padded seat before holding a finger out towards Stiles. “Just. Wait here for a little while, okay?” Before Stiles could question her, she was gone doing who knows what.

Whatever it was, Stiles wasn’t sure he’d be happy about it.

He looked up towards the clock. 10 : 14. Dammit. Well. He had no better places to be.

He quickly settled into a comfortable position, pulling out his phone and pushing his earbuds into his ears. Might as well.

* * *

 

Derek was sitting at a bench – coincidentally, the same bench Stiles had been sprawled across, but you didn’t have to tell that to Derek – when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He leaned forward, and pulled it out.

Text from Laura.

**get ur ass down to the shop. NOW.**

Laura only used Caps when things were serious. He sprung off of the bench, and started speed-walking in the direction of the coffee shop.

Dammit. Laura’d probably left something in the oven, and now it was on fire, and the entire place was burning down. Or maybe, there was some asshole holding her hostage, demanding all of the money in the cash register. He knew there would be some benefit to teaching her how to text without looking.

Various scenarios of how Laura could be hurt swirled through his mind, and he felt his hysteria grow, until his heartbeat was pounding loudly in his ears.

The sight of the shop, intact and _not_ in ruins, calmed him slightly. And there was Laura, leaning against the brick, looking bored as she twirled a purple flower with her fingers.

Derek quickly walked up to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a onceover, ignoring her protests. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen–” Laura cut through his frantic worryings by smacking him upside the head.

“I’m fine, genius. Just shut up and listen to me.”

Derek rubbed at the sore spot on his head, glaring slightly at his older sister, but kept his mouth shut.

“You texted me about a boy you saw at the park?”

Derek’s cheeks pinked. Fucker, he wasn’t supposed to be this. Awkward. “Yeah,” he grunted quietly, not looking Laura in the eye.

“Well. Why didn’t you say it was freaking _Stiles Stilinski_?”

Derek jerked his head up at her words, wide-eyed. She stared back at him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“How did you–”

“Because he’s inside moaning and groaning about looking like an idiot in front of _you_.”

Derek continued staring at her, words not connecting in his mind. “Wha–”

“Oh my god, you’re hopeless, the both of you.” She firmly grasped his hand with one hand, using the other to bang open the door. She yanked him inside. He stumbled over the threshold, righting himself almost immediately. If Laura was saying what he thought she was saying then –

“Yo, Stiles!”

The brown-haired boy looked up at her call, eyes visibly sliding from the now hugely-grinning woman to Derek. His eyes widened, before a light red color painted his cheeks. The boy's mouth – holy fucking _shit_ , those lips – opened and closed before he looked away, staring down at his coffee cup, blush still smeared across his face.

Laura dragged him over to the booth, before firmly pushing him into the seat opposite from Stiles. Those amber eyes flicked to his, before sheepishly looking away.

“Stiles, this is my brother, Derek.”

Stiles’ head snapped to Laura at her words, but she continued without fail. “And Derek, this is my best customer and friend, Stiles.”

Derek refused to look at Stiles, keeping his eyes firmly on the tabletop. They definitely weren’t following the incessant tapping that those long, unholy fingers were making on it, not at all.

Laura sighed, annoyed, before reaching out and whacking them both. Both men looked at her, expressions of pain mixed with “what the heck, Laura” on their faces.

“You’re both being stupid. You like each other, sorta. Just talk already, for God’s sake, and get this over with.”

Both began feebly protesting, but Laura held up a hand, a clear sign for them to shut up and listen to her. “I’m going to get your usuals, and some blueberry muffins, and by the time I come back, you better be talking.”

With that, she turned on her heel, and marched back towards the counter.

Derek finally chanced a glance towards Stiles, who was looking at him, an amused expression on his face as he rubbed at a red spot on his cheek. Laura could pack a punch.

He cleared his throat. “I’m Derek. Laura’s uh, brother.”

Stiles laughed. Derek gulped, eyes widening. Motherfucker, his stomach shouldn’t be allowed to feel like this, although he couldn’t say it was altogether bad.

“I know. I’m Stiles. I guess you work with my dad?”

Derek nodded, feeling a little less uncomfortable. Work. That was something he could definitely talk about.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

“I know. He’s my dad, yanno, I’m like, #1 on the list of people that know how amazing he is.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

And back to awkward silence.

Stiles fiddled with the lid of his coffee cup, which was obviously empty, and Derek stared at the table some more. Such a swell design. He wondered if the table-maker – carpenter? – did that on purpose. He’d have to ask his carpenter friend about that. He probably made tables.

Laura came back, placing two steaming cups of coffee and a plate of muffins on the table. She stared at them both, watching as they resolutely looked away from each other. She moaned before gesturing wildly towards them both.

“Dammit, guys. There’s gotta be _something_ that you can talk about. Like, books, movies, something, _anything_!”

There was another silence, before Stiles spoke up. “I didn’t really like the movie version of _The Mortal Instruments_.”

Derek jerked his head up, eyes narrowed. “What the heck? Why, it was so good!”

“Well, for starters…” Laura left the table, hearing the conversation get more heated, both participants sounding thoroughly engaged. She giggled before waving her hand towards Jenny, the other woman working the counter.

“Make sure they stay stocked up on coffee and muffins, or whatever the hell they want okay?” She pointed towards the pair, who were now leaning close to each other, elbows on the table, obviously conversing in great detail about something. Jenny grinned, before looking back at her and winking.

“You got it, boss. You clockin’ in early?”

“Yeah, I gotta go see somebody.”

Jenny nodded before getting back to work.

Laura quickly hung up her apron, before pulling out her phone. She scrolled through her contacts before quickly pressing a few buttons. She held the phone up to her ear as she walked out of the store.

She glanced back at Stiles and Derek, who were laughing. She grinned before hearing a “Hello?” on the other line.

“Hey, Sheriff! It’s been a while since we talked. I think there’s something we need to discuss…”

And with a quiet jingle as the door shut, Laura walked towards the station, still hearing the laughter of her brother and friend. Damn, those adorable fuckers were loud.

She could already hear the wedding bells. 

**Author's Note:**

> There were wedding bells, actually, about 4 years from this point.  
> After the vows and a much-too-inappropriate-for-the-children kiss - which Stiles didn't give a crap about because Derek's lips were freaking _magic_ \- they gave their speeches.  
>  Stiles had spent about 3 weeks writing it, spending hours scrawling and scratching out because Derek was so amazing that he couldn't be put into words. But two nights prior to the wedding, he'd finally found the right words to say.  
> Derek didn't spend a single moment worrying about it. He knew that the moment he looked at Stiles sitting next to him, grasping his hand and looking as though _Derek_ was the most important thing in the world, he'd know what to say.  
>  Stiles took a deep breath and began. "Well, I still disagree with you on that _Mortal Instruments_ movie," snort from Derek, "but I can't help but love you anyways."


End file.
